


Lost To Save

by MessyScandinoodle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Edwardian AU, M/M, Master Hannibal, Servant Will, Slow Burn, Starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyScandinoodle/pseuds/MessyScandinoodle
Summary: Will is a bought servant at the Verger estate, a deplorable Edwardian home full of abuse and disease. Hannibal visits for dinner and comes to have a liking to Will. He wants to make him his own, but perhaps the years of abuse have broken Will for good.





	1. I Saw These Chains Locked To My Wrists

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misty_Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Sea/gifts).



> A commission for frizzledcat on tumblr
> 
> You'll have to pardon my mistakes as far as terminology goes. I'm just learning the proper terms for the roles of certain servants in a Victorian/Edwardian home. I hope its at least some form of accurate. Mason's treatment of his staff is not the standard for these times, although servitude was still a hard burden to bare. 
> 
> Title based off of the song Slaves by Wolves At The Gate

A winding road lead itself to a lavish home, settled within a large forest. The space immediately around it had been cleared for a few acres each direction, giving it an equally lavish yard. Stables sat to the west, shared by horses, and the families source of wealth, pigs. Far enough away that the residents wouldn’t smell them, close enough that when the snow fell, it wasn’t impossible to get to them. A pond with a bridge sat near the back of the property behind the house, surrounded by a large garden of flowers. Fruit trees lined the space between the natural flora and the man made gardens. Servants stood on ladders, picking the ripened apples. 

This is where Will Graham stood, teetering atop a rickety ladder, and picking fruit he was not allowed to eat. The fall breeze made his cheeks flush, tousling his curls. His stomach growled, and for a moment he stared down at the red fruit in his hand. He stared long, and hard. In his mind he brought it to his lips, and sank his teeth into it. In his fantasy the juice would run down his chin and slide down his throat. He hadn’t realized the reality was that he was bringing it to his lips. 

“Hey! You! What do you think you’re doing?” A rough voice called. It came from a sun weathered man, a thick pole in his hands. 

Will practically tumbled off the ladder when he was jerked back to reality, shifting and wobbling. He quickly dropped the apple into his basket. 

“My apologies.” Apparently that wasn’t enough. The man stomped his way over, then with his long pole, and smacked Will’s ankle roughly. It sent him sprawling. He tried to grasp at a branch, or the ladder he was falling off of. It didn’t do any good. He landed on his back, and the world went blurry as the wind was stolen from his lungs. 

A cruel laugh punctuated his heaving groan, unable to intake air. Just as he thought he would slip into the darkness, he finally gasped in a deep breath.

“Get back to work.” The cruel footman ordered. Will couldn’t do anything but obey, crawling back up the ladder despite the searing pain in his ankle and rib. 

  
  


After apples were picked, and lunch was served, Will finally had a chance to get off his swollen, purple ankle. 

“It’s probably broken.”  Another servant was checking his ankle, a little merciless with her inspection. Will was taking deep breaths to try and distract from the pain. Her irritation was evident. Not at him, but more to their living conditions. “You’re lucky if it doesn’t get some sort of infection.” 

Infection was a rampant worry in his society. A nasty flu was ripping through Europe. The autumn nights had already sank its cold fingers into their lungs. Coughs replaced the crickets that had just been chirping weeks before. Will was lucky. He hadn’t gotten sick. Not yet. Abigail was sick. Too sick. The coughing fits had started to make her wretch. It was only a matter of time. He knew it. It wouldn’t be the first servant he watched die. It would be the hardest though. Now with this new injury, it was unlikely he’d make it through the winter either. Perhaps that was for the best. 

“Does it need to be set?” he asked, and Beverly sighed, 

“I don’t think so. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. Just try and stay off of it. I’ll use one of my old dress sleeves to make a wrap.” Staying off of it would be impossible. Will was both used in the stables, and in the house. If he wasn’t cleaning up after animals, he was cleaning up after people. 

 

Will only had those few moments of talking with Beverly inside her room. If they were caught there Beverly would be sent off onto the streets. Will would be punished, but not to that severity, most likely just a beating, or a meal taken away. Only a few minutes passed of relaxation and idle chatter before it was time to start preparing for dinner. 

Most days they would have had more time to rest, a few moments between one chore to the next. Unfortunately, there was a guest coming today. Which meant everything had to be polished, wiped, dusted, and then polished again just in case. Will’s specific job was to prepare the silverware, making sure not a water spot was left on it. Once that job was done, he would get the rare gift of wearing nice, real clothes. His face would be made presentable, and he would be serving the food, and fetching drinks. The master made it seem like a normal house when guests were about.

He took his time with the silverware, for one, he didn’t want the punishment for leaving a spot, and two, he was able to sit while doing this. 

“Will, are you done?” A large man asked from the doorway. He was dressed nicely, and clean. His cheeks were full. The Butler. Will envied him, bitter thoughts spitting venom at him.  _ Wouldn’t you like to know. _

“No, but I’m nearly done.” The man didn’t like this answer, his face pinched.

“You’re required to dress very soon. Dr. Lecter will be here sooner than inspected.” 

Will swore under his breath, and nodded, “I’ll be fast.” He finished up his polishing, then hobbled his way down  the stairs. Each step was agony, and his teeth grit audibly as he descended. 

 

A housemaid helped him dress, taking off his dirty orchard clothes, and replacing them with the ornate designs specifically tailored to the family. The one item he’d ever had tailored to him, this blue and gold suit. 

_ Perhaps if I were born a girl, I would have the luxury of being a housemaid.  _ he thought to himself as he held his arms out for the young lady to slip his shirt on. Helping people dress and fetching tea sounded like a luxury compared to the work he did. 

He winced when shoes were put on his feet. It burned and ached all at once, and he closed his eyes tight. They didn’t even fit him properly. 

“Are you o-”  
“I’m fine. It’s fine.” He reassured quickly. No need to have rumors of being a broken slave. It was bad here, but it could be worse at other places if he was sold off. Better to know what suffering you would endure than have no idea at all what was to come. 

 

Dressed, and his face washed, he was ready to serve dinner. No amount of soap and water would hide his sunken cheekbones and eye sockets. No one would care either. This was just the world they lived in. The pigs ate better than the servants. 

He stood by in the kitchen, until Dr. Lecter was announced, and it was time for the show. Will picked up several trays, balancing them on his arms. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and braved the steps from the kitchen to the dining hall. It was hard to keep food warm going up the two flights of step, and down the hallway. Let alone when you had to take it slow less you drop everything. He made sure is limp was barely noticeable, though. Walking smoothly into the dining room, he served each dish, eye’s cast down. Looking into his superiors eyes was disrespectful. Not to mention completely uncomfortable for Will. 

Looking into someone’s eyes opened their soul to him. That’s what it felt like. He saw inside them, practically seeing their thoughts. He was smart enough not to tell a single soul about it. He didn’t need holes being drilled into his brain. He did glance to Dr. Lecter’s face as he served him his dish, and was shocked to see a friendly smile. Certainly it wasn’t aimed at him. He took in his facial features quickly, before averting his gaze again. Dr. Lecter had an odd face, from what little he had observed. Sharp cheeks, but not from malnourishment like his own. He lacked eyebrows, but his brow-bone made up for it. It was almost otherworldly. 

Will stepped back into the shadows, near the wall. He was meant to stand and wait to be beckoned, but to keep himself scarce. His presence should only be known for the sake of fetching sustenance. He was biting back a scream. His stomach was turning itself inside out with hunger, and he felt any second his ankle might collapse in on itself. He made sure to keep his breathing even, and stay quiet. It was agony. He usually eavesdropped on the dinner conversation, whether it was juicy gossip or stories that let his imagination run free. That wasn’t to be tonight. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, and he kept staring off into the far distant, escaping into his mind. A world where he was free, and his belly was full, and no one ever coughed.

 

“William!” A sharp voice brought him back. He grimaced. He had done it again. It was not the first time he had gone too far within himself. “Have you gone deaf, stupid boy? I told you to get me wine!” 

Will nodded dazedly, then nodded quickly in realization, “Yes, Mr. Verger.” He rushed back to the kitchen to fetch more wine. His limp was more prominent as he came back with it, making it burn from his hurry up and down the stairs. He poured a glass for Mason. 

“Would anyone like more wine?” He asked politely, to which Hannibal raised a hand to. He quickly went to pour his glass, and as he leaned, Hannibal startled him with a soft whisper into his ear, 

“Sit down, please.” It was such an odd request. He’d certainly never gotten that before. He’d had some weird ones, some naughty or just plain disgusting ones. But just to be asked to be seated next to him was new.  _ Did he see my limp? Does he actually care? Don’t be silly Will. He’s just being a pervert. _

He was torn. He wasn’t to disobey the guests, but Mason may actually end his suffering if he were to sit. Will minutely shook his head, and retracted himself back to the shadows. He could feel Margot’s mournful eyes burning into him as he did. Her compassion was only skin deep. She kept herself comfortable at the expense of the rest of them. At least that’s how Will saw it. Maybe if she spoke up more, they would be able to eat more. He knew it wasn’t that simple. Mason was cruel in special ways to her. Ways that kept him up at night.

 

He leaned back against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed doing it. It helped keep the weight off his ankle. The bad posture would most likely result in punishment. The lights were dim though, and he was hopeful the shadows would hide him. Just when he had finally found a fairly comfortable position, he was once again snapped into work. 

“Will, dear. More wine for our friend.” Mason’s smile lacked any kind of human emotion. It was empty, and his eyes glinted cruelly. He saw his limp. He saw his leaning. There would be no breaks. 

Will imagined him a monster. A large bore like creature that stood on its hind legs, ugly tusks jutting from beneath its lips. Snorting and wuffling about in the muck. Killing anything in sight that was innocent or pure. Disgusting. 

He was about to obey, stepping to the table when Hannibal quickly interjected, “I don’t need him to pour it for me, thank you.” He reassured. Hannibal smiled, and Will saw it. The finest of details. That smile did not reach his eyes. He poured his own glass, tipping his head to Will in acknowledgment. Will was grateful, even though he knew it was most likely not out of kindness, but disgust. He knew he smelled, and was dirty. He imagined if he were as cleanly and as well kept as Dr. Lecter, he wouldn’t wish for a lowly servant to touch what he was eating and drinking off of either. Back to leaning he went. 

  
  


\--

Hannibal was only coming to visit the Vergers because they were influential. He would rather spend the night alone than in the company of Mason. He would rather spend the night in his pig barn. He was obnoxious and pompous, and more cruel than imaginable. He had his ugly fingers grasped into every part of society, though, and Hannibal could use to be friends with someone influential. He was trying to become a successful doctor, despite his parents money. He could have done nothing but take care of the estate for the rest of his life. Hannibal was just not that type. He needed to be busy, and he enjoyed his small practice. It wasn’t what he wanted it to be though. His reputation was shaky, as an awful infection was currently tearing through the surrounding area. The largest casualties were the servants. 

 

Despite Mason’s delusions about how the property was set up, Hannibal could easily smell the pig farm. Luckily if the doors were shut, and he was deep enough into the house, the smell dissipated. It was, however, replaced by the smell of sickness and dirt once passed the foyer. It was appalling. Aesthetically and humanely, that his servants were not bathed and clothed properly, at least for guests. Of course the ones right out in eyesight had nice enough looking clothes, and a clean face, but he could smell the grime that had built up on them. Repugnant. Mason treated his pigs better than he treated his servants. 

He was admittedly curious to see who would be serving tonight though. Mason had a high turnover rate. Every winter he lost a fair number of them, or he punished others until they were disposed of. He just bought or hired more. Wasteful. Somewhere in these woods was a massive grave that he prayed never to find. He wondered if he had the decency to bury them. 

 

It was generally accepted that you hired in servants. They weren’t slaves, but help. It was the duty of a manor’s owner to employ the county they resided in. One Manor could easily employ over three hundred people. However, Mason didn’t enjoy this practice. He took the back routes to avoid fair pay and hours. He bought slaves, and called them servants. Deplorable, but no one ever spoke of it. He was too wealthy for anyone to care. 

 

Once in the dining room he took his seat, and watched as his dinner was carried in. His eyes fluttered over the servant boy carrying it. Was he a boy or man? It was hard to tell with how thin and hunched he was. The slightest touch of a limp accompanied each of his steps, which he mentally noted for later. Stormy blue eyes were almost hidden by long, dirty strands of curls. A square, strong jaw was neatly groomed, though he knew that was just for show for the night. Lastly, of course, he noted the sunken cheeks. 

Yet despite the grime and obvious malnourishment, he was surprisingly beautiful. Diamond in the rough. He needed refining of course, just like any jewel did. Hannibal observed his obedience, and quiet demeanor. He was disappointed when he took a place behind him, out of eye sight. There was something fascinating about him. He knew he should be ashamed for wanting to view him like a circus animal. 

 

His failed attempt to get him to sit was disappointing, but not unexpected. It was nearly unheard of for servants to accompany the upstairs dwellers at dinner, but It was obvious the servant was in extreme pain. His face twisted with every step, and it was apparent Mason was enjoying it immensely. The second time Mason tried to torture him, he declined the wine, and poured it himself. His patience was already wearing thin. 

 

His late mother and father had a very strong opinion on how servants should be treated. The better you treated them, the better they worked. It was better to be comfortable with your help, and they be comfortable with you. Opposed to having to continuously buy new help because you couldn’t be bothered to let them eat and bathe. 

“Mason, I see that you’ve lost servants already, so soon into the cooler seasons.” He noted, smelling the wine before taking a drink. Mason just grinned crookedly, 

“What can I say? Just can’t keep good help around anymore.” He shrugged dismissively, “Lost… Margot, is it four or five?” he asked flippantly. Margot sighed, 

“Five, brother. Five people have died.” she muttered, almost painfully slow. Hannibal didn’t care for her constant pout either. They both crawled beneath his skin in all the wrong ways. 

“How many pigs have you lost? Not due to slaughter, of course.” He made sure to chuckle after. Disguising his accusations as casual dinner chatter before he took a bite of his food. Bland. Cooked by those who probably hadn’t ever gotten to taste it. 

“Just one, and the one little piggy that didn’t make it against its brothers and sisters.” Mason’s laugh made Hannibal want to smack him. He looked back at the servant boy behind him. He wanted to know more than just his name about him.  

“Where did you get this one?” he gestured over his shoulder to Will. Mason just grunted his response, mouth full of food. At least he had the decency to swallow before continuing, 

“Auction I went to last year. Him and some girl came as a pair. I’m hoping they might give me some free servants.” he waved his glass, nearly splashing the wine on the table. 

 

“They aren’t breeding.” Margot interjected, voice laced with annoyance, “She’s hardly eighteen. She’s going to be dead by next week anyways.” Her voice trailed off near the end, as if she remembered who she was talking to suddenly. Mason had an iron grip on the whole household, just as his father before him. Odd, for such a seemingly weak man. 

Another disgusting part of Mason’s ethics. Servants were never supposed to even have relations outside of ‘breeding’. It was all about saving the penny though, and keeping his slaves populated.

“You aren’t terribly attached to him, then?” Hannibal pressed, as Will was beckoned by a gesture from Mason to stand in Hannibal’s view. The limp was no longer hidden. His whole right side dipped down each time he put weight on it. 

“I guess not. He’s flighty anyways. Always falling asleep standing up. I think he might actually be crazy! ”  _ that’s because you don’t let them sleep.  _ Hannibal retorted in his mind, but on the exterior he smiled cheerily, as Mason laughed obnoxiously.  

“He’s lame now, it seems anyways. I’d like to take him off your hands. I’m in the market for a valet. I can pay you the same price you paid for him, despite his lameness.” 

 

Mason feigned shock, and looked down at Will’s swollen ankle. “He wasn’t lame this morning!” He puffed, “who did this?!” Of course he was not upset that Will was hurt, Hannibal was sure. It just meant he couldn’t upsell him to Hannibal now. He was officially a damaged product. Hannibal was deprived a straight answer to his question as Mason started a witch hunt to find the person responsible. He sent a few servants to start asking questions, and Will left to get dessert from the kitchen. 

 

\-- 

Will was completely dismayed. He couldn’t be sent off to a new home. Not with a broken ankle. He wouldn’t be able to prove himself. Now he definitely wouldn’t make it through the winter. He’d be cast away, or beat, or worse. The comfortable misery here would be disrupted. A new place, new personalities that would seep into his consciousness and wake him up in the night. He would have to leave Abigail. 

At the very least, justice was being served. Now that he had a price tag on him, Mason was defending him. The footman who had broken his ankle would most likely have both of his own broken, maybe something more. He didn’t want to think about it too much. It made him smile wickedly, and that bothered him. He strayed away from the dark sides of himself he had absorbed from others. At least he told himself he had adopted it from those around him. 

 

Dessert was just more pain, and it had come to the point that he couldn’t hide it. He was taking deep breaths, a sharp exhale with each step. Mason watched in disdain as he fumbled with the plates. 

“Come on now, Willy boy.” He ‘patted’ his cheek in a succession of rough smacks. “You can do better than that.” He knew better than to become verbal, so he just nodded softly, and then poured everyone another glass of wine. 

 

“I’m serious, Mason. How much did you pay for him?” His new buyer was adamant, not allowing Mason to stray from the topic. One of the few people he’d ever see challenge him. Refreshing.

“two-hundred gold pieces.” He was upselling him despite him being damaged. A very common practice in the Verger business. Will was disappointed to see that the other man didn’t even question it. He wanted to see him take over the conversation more. 

“Fine, I’ll give you two-hundred gold pieces, but not anymore.” It all made Will’s gut churn. His fate seemed sealed. He started flirting with the idea that whatever happened to him, even if it meant a short life, would be better than this place. 

“Fine. you have a deal.” Mason got up to shake his hand, and Hannibal stood as well.  Their hands clasped, and Will’s heart thumped in his chest. 

 

It wasn’t hard to say goodbye to most of the other servants. He hardly associated with most of them. Beverly and Abigail were the ones that made it hurt to leave. He would miss them. He hugged Abigail tightly, despite her heavy cough. He wasn’t afraid of her sickness. He just needed to hold her close one last time. His eyes shut tight, face twisted in pain. He knew this would be their last goodbye. It hurt him so deeply to leave her. 

“You just rest, okay? And get better. Beverly will take such good care of you.” He ordered, rubbing her back tenderly. Abigail was too weak to respond, and her voice had long disappeared from the constant cough. She squeezed him softly, and he smiled. The tears he had been hiding escaped. He quickly wiped them away, taking a deep breath and chuckling with embarrassment. 

“Bev, please take care of her.” he begged, and Beverly nodded, 

“I will, I promise. I’m doing my best.” Will nodded softly, and clasped her hand. 

 

“Thank you.” He then limped his way from the servant’s quarters, up the stairs, through the hallway, past the dining hall, through the foyer and out the door where Hannibal was waiting. The stone driveway was a bit of a challenge, but he successfully hobbled his way over to the carriage.  

“Do you require help into the carriage?” Hannibal asked once he had gotten closer. Will had initially just assumed that he was speaking to someone else. When he repeated it, he realized it was indeed aimed towards him. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to say.  _ Should I speak _ ? He decided a nod would be a safe answer for now. He didn’t know Hannibal’s rules, and didn’t know what would be a trap, or a test. 

Hannibal promptly helped him up into the carriage, gently taking his hand and giving him support as he clambered in. “As soon as we get back to my home, I’ll make a proper splint.” He reassured, climbing in and sitting across from Will. “Go, Franklyn.” He ordered his driver, and they were bumping away from the Verger estate. Will looked at the large monument, and the beautiful grounds. He was finally leaving, getting away. Away from the stench of pigs. Away from beatings and starvation, and disease. Away from Abigail. The Verger estate felt sickly like home. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for a new one. 


	2. Around My Neck, No Shackles Missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns about the Lecter estate, and feels darkness creeping around every corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this seems weak. I tried really hard. I try to keep 'filler' chapters interesting, so hopefully it isn't too bad.

The ride to Lecter manor was agony. Despite his new masters attempts, there was just no comfortable way to put his wounded ankle. Each bump of the carriage jarred it, sending a burning ache up his whole leg. It was still better than walking, the only mode of transport for even a lady’s maid in the Verger home. 

Will had imagined he was being brought to a much smaller house than what he had left. Certainly someone who would buy him wasn’t well off enough to hire a real valet. So when the manor came into view, he was shocked at its size. Granted it was not quite as vast as Mason’s property, it was still large. It was partially hidden by heavy shadows cast by the setting sun, but he could see most of it. He couldn’t count the windows that represented the many rooms, there were so many. 

It never made sense to him. There was no reason for so many, unoccupied rooms. The whole county could come for a party and stay the night, and still only a quarter of the rooms would be used. Wasteful. Upstairs were always so wasteful. 

 

The carriage pulled up in front of the front doors, and Hannibal got out. Will slowly stood, and started to climb down when Hannibal stopped him. “No.” he ordered, and Will quickly sat himself back down. His heart was racing, was he meant to just stay in the carriage? Was he being taken somewhere else? Or perhaps he was just meant to be left at the servants entrance. 

None of this was to be, Hannibal reached inside the carriage, and picked his frail body up. Will didn’t mean to gasp so harshly, but the sudden movement startled him. He was being carried over his shoulder. It was undignified, but he had very little dignity left in his life. 

Hannibal carried him inside, very careful with his ankle, making sure it wasn’t touched by a single thing. His butler greeted them at the door, 

“Sir?” It was meant as a greeting, but came out as a question. Unorthodox behavior for sure. 

“Good evening, Frederick.” He greeted, “This is my new Valet, ah well. Going to be. I bought him from that wicked Verger man.” He explained, despite the fact that the butler needed no explanation. It wasn’t his place to question his masters actions. 

“I see. Your bed is made, and your night clothes laid out for you. Would you like tea, sir?” 

Will would have really liked to be put down now, instead of just laying draped across a broad shoulder while this exchange occurred. 

“Yes, please. Are there any extra beds made in the servants quarters?” There was a pause as Frederick mentally took a count of the many rooms,

“No, sir. I’m afraid not.” He admitted, “I hesitate to suggest it, but there is a guest room that still is made up, after Lady Alana’s visit.” 

Hannibal nodded, “Very well. I’ll take him there then. Make it tea for two.” Frederick wanted to argue, but knew better. He instead just nodded, and went to go inform the staff that Hannibal was home, and required tea for two. 

 

Will stared at the steps they were leaving behind, Hannibal easily carrying him up each one. It was so embarrassing, but it not completely unwelcome. He wasn’t sure he could make it up these steps at this point. 

His head was reeling at the idea of staying in a guest room. He had just been a Hall boy at the Verger place. All he’d had was a bed to lay in. The only reason he had been serving dinner that night was because the two footmen meant to do it were ill. The one who had broken Will’s ankle was only in charge of keeping the other servants in line. Perhaps he had a bit of luck after all. 

 

\--

Hannibal’s legs burned with each step once he had reached the third flight. He wasn’t going to make an injured man crawl up them though. Perhaps his other servants he might of, but he was feeling a large amount of pity for this particular one. 

He was relieved when he finally made it to his floor, and carried Will to the bedroom spoken about before. He laid him down into the bed, relieved partially because his muscles were tired, and Will’s smell had really started to bother him. 

“Oh dear. I’ve forgotten to ask for the medical supplies.” he murmured, and rang his bell. He could feel Will’s untrusting eyes watching him as he did so. “I know that you think this may be a cruel trick, or perhaps you will be punished. I assure you it is neither. I am a doctor, it is my job to help people. Even servants.” This explanation didn’t seem to relax Will. It would take time. Just time. Mason was a destroyer of minds. Destroyer of everything really. 

 

The butler came back with the tea, and set the tray on the bedside table. 

“Could you get my medical supplies from my office? I’m sorry you’ve had to take two trips.” 

“It’s not a problem.” he reassured, but Hannibal heard the sigh after the door was closed. 

“Frederick is not my most willing servant, but he is certainly good at keeping everyone in line.” He explained, gently moving the blanket to see Will’s ankle. “I don’t think it’s broken. It seems you may have torn a ligament and sprained it though.” Will hissed when his ankle was moved, and Hannibal shushed him softly, “I’m sorry. Once Frederick is back, I’ll clean it, and then bandage it. Then you can rest for the night.” 

Frederick returned with bandages, splints, pain medication, and a bowl of water for cleaning it. Hannibal began the tedious cleaning, trying to cause the least amount of pain as possible. The man laying in this bed was like an injured horse. Flighty and twitchy. Hopefully he didn’t kick like one. 

“Is that too tight?” he checked, finally making a little splint and wrapping it. 

“It’s fine, thank you, sir.” Will’s monotone voice replied. 

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it for the night then. Tomorrow Frederick will give you a tour if you’re feeling up to it. Ring the bell when you wake.” He was disappointed that all he got was a somber nod. Time… Just time. 

He left the room quietly, and retired to his room. He changed into his pajamas, but then sat at his desk. He added Will’s name to his roster of servants, putting him in the Valet position. Perhaps it was a mistake to give him such a prestigious role so early. It could always be changed in the future. He closed his book, and went to bed. 

 

\--

Will had the best night of sleep he’d ever had. After drinking his tea and taking the pain medication, he had happily dozed off beneath his thick comforter. The room was warm, a fire having been lit for him as soon as Hannibal had left the room. It was so peaceful. He wished it would last forever. He hadn’t even dreamt while in that bed. 

He slept through the lighting of the fire that morning. He was used to hearing noises as he slept, since he had slept in the hall at the Verger estate. The sun was well in the sky before he was stirring. 

He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up. For a moment he was fairly disoriented as to where he was and how he got there. In an instant though he recalled his whereabouts. 

 

Will remembered the instructions given to him, and he got up to ring the bell. Now that it was light, he could see just how lavish the room was. A desk near the window, the bed he had been laying in could fit four people in it with ease. The sheets and blankets were ornately designed, and as he knew personally, soft as velvet. The fireplace had a mantle above it that held majestic black stag statues, antlers tangled together as they sparred. The floor had a large carpet to cover the mahogany wood, and it matched the beds patterns. He knew this would be the last time he could view this room like this. As a resident in it. It was brief vacation that he felt he needed. 

He hobbled over to the bell and rang it. His foot didn’t burn and ache as before. It still stung and hurt, but it wasn’t crippling. 

A pair of crutches were rested against a chair near the door, and he stepped over to get them. As he reached though, the door opened, making him jump. He quickly retracted his hand, as if he weren’t meant to be touching them. 

 

It was Frederick, holding a tray of food and tea. “I’ve been ordered by the master to serve you your breakfast, and help dress you.” Will could tell he wasn’t pleased about this. 

“Funny, when I arrived here, I wasn’t carried in here, and I certainly didn’t get a guest bedroom.” He hissed, “So what is it, that makes you so special?” He asked accusingly. 

 

Will wasn’t sure what to say. He was so used to being beat into submission, he just dipped his head. “I’m sorry.” he stepped out of the butlers way. 

“Whatever. Come get dressed, then eat. The master wants to see you in his study as soon as you’re finished.” He instructed. 

 

Frederick helped him dress, which Will was very embarrassed about. He had always dressed himself before. He never needed help. The clothes were baggy, but they smelled and felt better than what he was in before. Frederick’s hands were rough with his work, especially when he helped with his pants. It made his leg hurt, but he didn’t make a sound. This was mild compared to what he’d suffered before. 

 

His skin was still dirty, but his clothes were so nice. To others eyes, they were just servant’s clothes, but to Will, they were fit for the king.

“Where is the master?” He asked Frederick softly, who rolled his eyes before answering,

“He’s in his study. Down the hall. Hurry, he knows you’re awake.” 

Will nodded quickly, then limped as fast as he could down the hall. He knocked on the door, then entered when he heard the call welcoming him in. 

 

“Ah, William. How are you feeling this morning? I hope that Frederick has treated you well.” Hannibal was idly rolling his pen in his fingers, smiling to him. Will kept his gaze cast down after the initial look. He just nodded his response, which Hannibal chuckled at softly, 

“Will, it’s okay. You can tell me how you’re feeling. Does your leg hurt? How did you sleep?” Hannibal kept his voice steady, and even. It sharply contrasted Mason’s wobbly and loud voice. 

“I slept very well… and my leg does hurt.” He admitted. As soon as he admitted it though, he wanted to retract it. Hannibal had been nice enough to give him a splint, and let him sleep in a big bed. Now Hannibal would be angry that he is so ungrateful. “But I’m okay,” he quickly added, “I heal fast, and I’m sure it’ll be fine by tonight.” He tried to save himself. He didn’t want to be a disappointment so soon. 

 

“Will.” Hannibal spoke, his voice keeping that low, deep tone. “You are allowed to feel pain, your foot has been severely injured. Go into the cabinet there, and get the dark bottle.” 

This still didn’t seem right, but Will obeyed as he normally would. As he tried to hand it to Hannibal he shook his head. Will was ready for the other shoe to drop. 

“No, go ahead and take two drinks of it. It should make your ankle feel better.” He explained. 

So this was it. Poison would be how he went. He stared down into the bottle, and then did something he never ever did. He locked eyes with Hannibal. They shared an intense stare, Will searching his eyes for malice or mischief. There was none. He was being kind. Perhaps it was truly genuine. He took two deep breaths, before he drank down a few chugs of the medicine. It was bitter, which he supposed was a good sign. If it didn’t taste like anything at all then he would know he really was being poisoned. He set the bottle down, lips still puckered in disgust. This apparently entertained Hannibal, as he chuckled at him. 

“Thank you, you can put it back now.” he went back to his papers while Will put the bottle back in the cupboard.

 

\--

 

Hannibal allowed Will to sit in his study. He pretended that he was to sit there and wait to be ordered. He didn’t bother with ordering him to do much, except fetch small things within the room. Just so it wasn’t completely obvious he was favoring the new servant. Will was silent. It made for a bad companion, but at least Hannibal was able to get his book work done faster. 

“I hate to be rude. It is the worst thing to me… but Will, I’d like for you to take a bath.” Hannibal’s sensitive nose could only take so much. Will was radiating a pungent mixture of old sweat, dirt, body odor, and sickness. The fevered smell was just faint in the background. He couldn’t yet determine whether it was coming from him, or was residual from someone he had come in contact with. He’d be able to know more certainly after he was washed up. 

 

“Yes, sir.” was the simple reply he got. It was more than he expected. He had prepared himself for the little nods he had received from almost everything else he had stated or asked during that afternoon. 

“Frederick will help you.” He reassured, but Will just sat where he was, staring down at his feet. “Will? What’s wrong?” He pried. It was like extracting teeth. Actually, extracting teeth was much easier. 

“Sir, it’s just that… I would rather do it myself.” Will glanced up to him, then back down at his feet. 

“As you wish, just try and be quick. The other servants don’t bathe until tomorrow. I don’t want to create too much jealousy.” He explained. 

Will still sat there for a few moments before he got up, “Sir.” He nodded respectfully, then left the room to take his bath. Hannibal’s calm eyes watched him go, resting his chin in his hands.  _ Is there a way to heal a broken spirit?  _

 

Hannibal took the time of Will’s absence to start studying. Matters of the mind were still a fairly new ground, but it was Hannibal’s favorite piece of study. He couldn’t quite get behind all of Freud’s theories, even though he was the latest and greatest in psychological study. He borrowed some knowledge from him, but he refused to believe everything revolved around sex so heavily. 

He saw potential in Will. Not just in his ability to work, and be functional. But he knew that in someway, somehow, there was a feral power crawling beneath his skin. He could practically smell it. He was going to draw it out of him. 

\--

 

Will enjoyed his bath, despite his original offense to the suggestion. He hadn’t smelled that bad. He had recently been able to bathe, at least within the last month anyways. When he was finished, he went back out to the main part of the guest room. Once again, Frederick was there to help him dress. He wished he could tell his new master he could dress himself. 

“If I were you. I would run.” Frederick whispered as he helped him with his shirt. Will’s gut tightened, 

“I can’t exactly run.” He noted, gesturing to his bandaged foot. 

“You know what I mean. As soon as you can get out of here, run. It isn’t any safer here than it was at your last home. Don’t fall for his tricks.” He hissed into his ear, making Will’s hairs stand on end. Will could only nod unsurely in response, and flee from the strange man as soon as he was decent enough to do so. 

He hobbled to Hannibal’s study again, knocking and waiting to be called in. His heart was still racing, but he tried to not seem as shaken as he was. 

“Ah, Will. Your bath was good?” Will just nodded in response, still miffed that he had suggested it. He sat down at the seat on the desk. He gazed at all the books, wondering what they were for. He looked to Hannibal, catching his eyes. He looked to the books again, and all the evidence started to piece itself together. 

“You are… studying about me?” He asked quietly, eyes flitting all over the room out of nerves. He shouldn’t have said that. 

Hannibal seemed to mull this over, rolling his pen in his hands a few times before replying, “I want to help you, Will. What you’ve experienced wasn’t right. I want to help heal you. Will you allow me to heal you?” 

As if he could say no. He internally rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Can you sign this paper for me?” Hannibal asked, offering out a piece of paper. Will stared down at it. He couldn’t read what it said on it. He couldn’t sign his name even if he wanted to. He shook his head, and cast his gaze down into his lap. 

“Oh, I see… Well, we can get to that later then… Perhaps tutelage will come first.” 

  
  


Will was quickly learning that the Lecter household was a strange one. Secrets whispered in the walls, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. The staff was a gaggle of misfits, and something told Will that’s exactly how Hannibal had wanted it. Not that he had a good idea of what normal was. He was almost positive though that no upstairs resident would ever be caught in the kitchen. Yet here he was, assisting Hannibal with dinner. The chef still cooked for the staff, but Hannibal cooked his meals for himself, and any guests that might visit. It was fascinating to watch. Hannibal made things he’d never even dreamt of. 

His job was mostly to just grab pots and pans, or fetch an ingredient. Still, Hannibal didn’t make him do much, and insisted he sit if he wasn’t actively assisting. It was all too good to be true. Something had to be wrong here, because everything was just too right. 

 

Will sat at the dinner table with the rest of the staff. They were allowed to talk, which was foreign to him. He was poked and prodded with a lot of questions about where he came from and what happened to his foot. He answered with the bare minimum. He had no reason to trust them. He was trying to pick up the names, and their titles. The few that stuck out the most was the housekeeper, who smelled like she lived in the wine sellar. The scullery maid, with fire red hair, and way too many questions. Her voice was constantly at a condescending tone. Then the two footmen, sitting very close to each other and talking amongst themselves. Finally, the Estate Steward, his presence filled the entire room, despite the fact he sat quietly at the table, hat beside his plate. He was one to avoid, for sure. 

 

After dinner, he limped back up to assist Hannibal. He was sipping tea in his study, staring out the window at the setting sun.

“The light fading is such a beautiful thing.” Hannibal said softly, before taking another drink of his tea. His cup clattered against its little plate quietly. Will hadn’t expected him to know he was there. He had been as quiet as he could when entering. “The colors she creates, as she goes to hide behind the horizon.” 

Will nodded softly, “The sunset is beautiful.” He commented lamely. 

“It’s so much more than the sun setting…” He sighed softly, “Someday perhaps.” he vaguely quipped. “Tomorrow, I’d like to start your tutoring. After breakfast, come to my study. I will not have an illiterate Valet.” 

This made an old rage bubble in Will’s gut. He wasn’t stupid. He was unfortunate. There was a difference. He waited to speak until he knew it wouldn’t come out laced with venom. “Of course, sir. Is there anything you would like from me?” 

The smile that tugged the upper corners of Hannibal’s lips made him feel uneasy. There was something so ominous about this man. “Nothing from you tonight, Will. I’ve just had your bed made for you in the guest room. I’d rather you avoid the stairs as much as possible.” 

More unsettling kindness. Will would take full advantage of it while he could. “Thank you, sir.” He then departed to his room. 

Will’s sleep was not as peaceful as the night before. Tonight, monsters crept in the shadows. A dark stag roamed the halls of the estate, leaving a trail of blood behind it. Will followed it, an awful feeling in his gut. He knew in the nonsensical way one can only know things in dreams, that if he found where the stag was going, he would wish he hadn’t. Yet he kept chasing him. The shadows from the moonlight kept morphing as he passed each window. Antlers, human silhouettes, and then sometimes a combination of both. He made it down into the kitchen, and then, suddenly he was falling. There was nothing to grab to break his fall, and though he wanted to, he couldn’t scream. 

He jumped up, gasping for breath. One of the maids gasped softly as she stoked the fire in his room. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Will rubbed his eyes, and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He sighed heavily, running his hands over his face. It was just a dream. He laid back down until the maid left. He then stripped off most of his sweat laiden clothes, and crawled beneath the blankets again. He dozed for an hour more before Frederick was there with his breakfast. 

 

“Sleep well?” Frederick asked, setting his tray down. 

Will shrugged softly, then shook his head softly. “I rarely ever sleep well.” He admitted. 

“I wouldn’t have hopes of that changing here, Will.” He said forebodingly, now preparing clothes for Will. 

As he was about to take the first bite of his food, Frederick was by his side, and squeezing his shoulder tight. “If I were you, I would advise not to eat the meat.”  he warned in his ear, before straightening. “Good day.” He departed, leaving Will confused, and shaken. What could possibly be wrong with the meat? 

 

\--

Hannibal had organized and attended quite a few lectures on varying topics, but directly teaching was something foreign to him. He recalled his own tutelage, and did his best to construct a lesson plan. He worried it may be too infantile, but time would tell. Adjustments wouldn’t be too difficult. 

Will entered silently, and once again despite Hannibal being faced away, he greeted him. “Good morning, Will.” The servants scent was unique. Sweet, and earthy. He quite enjoyed it. “Come sit, and make sure to prop your leg up.” he insisted. 

Once he was sat down, he handed him a slate and chalk, and began explaining to him how letters were written, and how they were read. He did his best to not make it an insulting process. 

 

The lesson went fairly well. They made it to the letter ‘F’, but had to stop when Will became visibly frustrated. He didn’t want to overwhelm him, or make this a chore for him. He put the materials away, then sat to check on his foot, and change the bandages. 

“How does it feel today?”   
“I think it’s better, sir.” he murmured, wincing slightly when Hannibal touched a particularly bruised spot. 

“Apologies. It’s looking well.” He rebandaged the foot. It wouldn’t take long to heal. He would be able to navigate the stairs easily within the week. 

 

\--

Will was learning the nuances of the household and its strange hierarchy. Hannibal was a stern master, but not cruel. He expected perfection, and Will had witnessed a few verbal bashings for incompetence. Hannibal seemed to dislike Frederick greatly, and even the slightest of mistakes he berated him for. Why, he wasn’t sure. Frederick was condescending to the other staff, and pompous, but he did his job well. 

His ankle was healed up, thanks to Dr. Lecter’s special care. He had moved down into the servants quarters now, but still had his own room. He knew it made the other staff jealous. He suspected perhaps that’s why Frederick kept telling him to run. Every morning he asked how his leg was, and told him if he was smart, he would run. 

The dreams hadn’t ceased, getting worse, darker. He had drowned in a river of blood the night before. This morning while on a short break, he had found a hatch beneath the kitchen floor. He didn’t go down in, but he asked Frederick about it.

“What is the hatch in the kitchen for?” He asked while waiting for dinner. 

“It’s where the meat is stored.” Frederick said gravely, becoming nervous. He grabbed Will suddenly, and tugged him close. “You know too much now. Run while you can.” 

 

He didn’t want to run. Not at first. He actually was starting to like trailing behind Hannibal, fetching him things for his work, and watching him help patients. They had long talks in the evenings. It was becoming apparent that Hannibal was a lonely man, despite a woman who came to visit at least once a week. 

Hannibal’s behavior began to change though. He was asking Will strange questions. 

“Have you ever killed before, Will? An animal, or otherwise? I’d like to take you hunting with me. I hunt all of my food.” And to Will’s horror, the antlers he saw in his dreams, began to show themselves in Hannibal’s shadow. The walls whispered louder, and now he could hear it. “ _ Run _ .” 


	3. I Tried To Shake Them Off and Flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is convinced the best thing to do is run. But is life really that good outside the light of the Lecter estate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been a while since I updated. I started a full time job!  
> I highly suggest listening to or reading the full lyrics of Slaves by Wolves At the Gate.  
> Italics are song lyrics!  
> I hope you enjoy.

_This plan devised in secrecy, will take my life, or set me free._

 

Frederick had helped him prepare. He helped him pack his little bit of clothes and belongings into a sack, and made sure each pathway was clear before tiptoeing out. Will’s heart was racing. He would finally find freedom. He would get a job in the new factories, or somewhere, and rent a home. He would be a free man.

 

_As night krept in, my chance to run. I wait for dark._

 

“Good luck.” He whispered as he opened the door. Will nodded to him, then noticed a figure in the dark behind Frederick. His stomach jerked up into his throat, the large antlers towering over the butler.

Will whirled, and took off at a sprint, ignoring the dull ache in his ankle. He heard Hannibal calling his name, and footsteps behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see him just feet behind.

Into the woods he fled, weaving in the trees, heaving for breaths. The branches whipped his face and he could hardly see where he was going. He just knew he had to run, and fast. Another look behind him, and Hannibal’s ominous figure stood against the moonlight at the edge of the trees, watching him. He turned his attention back to where he was going. He recalled the road was somewhere in this direction.

 

_No looking back, I’m running, running out of sight. No looking back I’m running, running into the night._

 

Despite no longer being actively chased, he continued to sprint, his muscles burning. He was fed well his short time at the Lecter estate, but he still wasn’t very fit. He had barely started to fill out.

He found the road, and turned onto it. He sprinted towards the town, to freedom. He didn’t stop running until he tasted blood in his mouth. He finally allowed himself to walk then, briskly. There was no reason Hannibal hadn’t had a horse readied to chase him. He could be on him in moments.

 

Will kept just off the road, ready to duck within the grass, or behind the trees if need be. He listened for hoofbeats, or footsteps, over his thrumming heart in his ears. He wasn’t sure how far away he was from any city or town. He just prayed it wasn’t too far. Once in, it would be much easier to hide. His ankle was beginning to ache with every step, and his limp was coming back. Hannibal had warned that he should only exercise it lightly.

 

_And if I stop, they will shoot. So I continue to hide in the cover of the night._

 

The sun was touching the horizon by the time he made it into the city. He had enough money in his pocket for some food and somewhere to sleep, and that is what he sought first. The first inn he found he entered, trying to not look as frazzled as he felt. He asked for a room, and paid before quickly limping his way there His muscles were aching and spent from his alternating between sprints and walking.

Later after some rest, he would go searching for new work. A free man. He smiled to himself, and sank into bed. He deserved rest. After this night, and after the life he had lived until now. It was time to become his own man.

Will slept almost as soon as he had laid down, and he sank into the darkness of his mind. In his dreams, he saw Abigail, more frail than ever. Her breaths came in small gasps, but before he could reach out to her, she was pulled into the darkness. Gone. Perhaps forever.

He was back on the road, watching the stag bounding towards the town, and then into it. It slowed its gate, strolling through the alleys and roads. It snorted, and seemed to scent the ground. Searching for him.

Then he was awake again, or at least it seemed that way. When he turned his head, the stag was staring at him through the window. That was enough to jerk him from his slumber, covered in sweat as usual. He had only one other pair of clothes to change into, and he didn’t want to soil them. He needed them for his job searching.

 

_Ran all this way with the hope this pain would now release, finally cease._

 

Finding work was easier than expected. He found a weaving factory. He was small enough to fit into the machines and fix them, and intelligent enough to learn how to fix them. The pay wasn’t worth what he was doing, but it was more than he had made in slavery, that was for sure.

In the beginning it didn’t seem so bad. But as the weeks continued, and work days began to blur, the exhaustion was setting in. On top, his foot hadn’t had the chance to heal properly. A permanent limp replaced a once spry step. His hands were becoming worn, scarred and often scabbed. He still had every finger though.

It was dangerous, crawling into the mechanisms. It wasn’t uncommon for the children to lose fingers or limps. One girl had her hair pulled out by the weave itself. Eight hours was, the standard, but it was becoming apparently that fourteen to sixteen hours were the norm.

 

_Not a slave to man anymore_

 

A month passed in his new life, and the cold set in. His small apartment didn’t have heat, nor a fire place. He used as many blankets as possible, and kept the cooking stove running. It hardly kept the frigid air at bay, and he could only afford so much coal.

When he wasn’t careful, on occasion, he would reminise of his short time at the Lecter estate. His imagination would wonder to the warm fires and heavy blankets. And to Hannibal.

It was lonely here. He didn’t have any friends. He had tried, but the worker he had invited to his apartment had stolen what little money he had when they left. So he kept himself distant from the others. It was what he was used to besides. At least what he was used to before the Lecter estate.

He missed Hannibal’s company. Their quiet morning talks. He missed learning to read. He was homesick.

 

_What is this freedom if I haven’t peace?_

_Serpant you lied and you told me to run. I haven’t found repose, for still I am undone._

 

New hires came in. People from distant lands, forced to work for less than locals required. They worked longer for less. The money hungry factory owners were quick to take advantage.

 

Will’s fourteen hour days became two to three hour days. It wasn’t enough. He was running out of money and it was getting colder. Small bits of bread and cabbage made his single meal he had each day. To combat the cold, he took to wearing his coat and gloves inside, and he sat himself beside the stove, leaving it open.

He was finally able to work a full days work, the foreign workers having a single day off. But it was late at night when he was done, and he had to walk in the seedy parts of the city. The snow was blowing in his face, and he bundled his coat closer to him. Teeth chattering, he trudged forward. Unaware of the dark shadows following him.

His eyes narrowed from the wind, feeling a bit lost in the blizzard. He turned a circle to get his bearings, but froze mid spin. Two figures were approaching quickly, just paces away.

“No!” He cried, before turning to run. He wondered briefly it was Hannibal, or someone he had hired. Wishful thinking at this point.

His limp hindered him in the ankle deep snow, and he was knocked to the cold ground with a grunt. He turned to try and defend himself, but was kicked in the face. He skidded in the snow, head reeling.

“Give us everything you have! Clothes too!” Will could hardly hear them over the ringing left in his ears. He started to obey, digging in his pockets for the meager bits of  change he had. He began to unbutton his coat when one of the men made a startled cry. His head snapped up to see a third man in the darkness.

Expert hands manipulated the man’s neck back with force, a ghastly crack echoing. He slumped into the snow just in front of Will. The startled expression still on his face as his dead eyes stared at him. Will felt a sick sense of pleasure at seeing him this way. Mangled, and scared.

The second man put up more of a fight, brandishing a knife. He slashed at Will’s savior, only to be subdued, and the knife driven first into his knee, and then into his throat. He too fell, painting the snow the most beautiful red Will had ever seen. He finally raised his eyes to the vigilante.

 

The dim streetlamp cast deep shadows on his face. Sharp cheekbones and a pronounced brow bone. He looked skeletal. _Hannibal_.

 

“Are your injuries grave?” His familiar voice asked quietly. Will shook his head dumbly.

“You found me.”

“I never lost you.” He offered his hand to Will, and helped him to his feet. “Now help me.”

 

_This peace abounds at my masters home, now my heart be still or these feet will fall. All for the will of the master’s call._

 

Will dragged one of the bodies along, Hannibal taking the other. His carriage was waiting nearby. Not the same he had ridden in from the Verger place. This had a small cart in the back. Just big enough to lay in. Or to lay someone in. They hoisted the bodies into it, and covered them with a blanket.

They were silent the whole time, and Will wondered how severe his punishment may be. He was alarmed that he was so willing to take it if it meant he could go back. That he could go home. Hannibal urged the horses on, back down the road Will had followed when he had fled.

As usual, he didn’t remember falling asleep. A bump in the road had woken him, and he sat up from where he had been leaning on Hannibal. The sun was coming up, peaking over the horizon.

“Are we nearly there?” He asked, shivering softly.

“Nearly.” Hannibal replied simply, gaze cast forward.

 

_The morning bright, all darkness, and not afraid. Shown the true light against the dawn._

 

“What made you run?” He asked finally, glancing to Will. “I thought that I had treated you well enough. I thought I treated you more than well. I brought you to my home to save you, but it wasn’t enough. I gave you a rare gift, Will.”

Will didn’t expect to feel the guilt that tightened his guilt, and he cast his gaze down. “I was afraid. I was afraid of many things. Frederick whispered lies to me. He made me want to run. I made myself want to run. I believed the whispers of the walls.”

“What do the walls whisper?”

“That you are darkness.”

“Am I?”   
Will licked his lips, thinking for a moment. “Not a darkness that I fear.” He met his gaze then, and Hannibal’s eyes crinkled in the smallest of smiles.

 

_My debt has now been paid, I was lost to save. For I am the master’s slave._

 

They sat in silence the rest of the way, despite Will having many questions. He wanted to savor them though. They had time. He still expected a punishment.   
Once they arrived, Hannibal led him back inside, and upstairs. This time, Will was able to walk himself up them. A whisper in his mind wanted to be carried up them again though.

His master didn’t bother waking the servants. He got him his fresh clothes, and stoked the fire in the guest room. It had been lit. Hannibal had been waiting for him.

Most surprising, Hannibal helped him undress, and dress. His hands were gentle, and lingered at his shoulders and sides for just a breath. Perhaps he thought Will wouldn’t notice. He pulled the covers back for him, and then tucked him in.

“Are you hungry?”

“It can wait til morning. I’m more tired than I am hungry.” Hannibal nodded in response,

“Goodnight then, Will.” He stroked his damp curls back, before he exited the room.

 

_Now run no more, my son, come home._


End file.
